


Make Me Feel

by rolameny



Series: Destiny fics [10]
Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Xeno
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-17
Updated: 2019-04-17
Packaged: 2020-01-15 08:15:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18494971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rolameny/pseuds/rolameny
Summary: Asaamu gets a haircut. Mithrax expresses his appreciation.





	Make Me Feel

**Author's Note:**

> Follows [Here I've Come to Hijack You](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14991785) and [Side to Side](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15079676).

It's easy to find Mithrax these days, now they've actually got his number. No more camping out on exposed ledges on Titan and waiting for an Eliksni crew to show up without trying to shoot — Asaamu just leaves him a message when he's heading into the City for a rotation's debrief, and by the time he's filed his reports he's got a message back. Mithrax is on Venus.

Asaamu hurries through the rest of his chores — visits Banshee to hand over a chip full of telemetry on his latest experimental pistol, swings by the cafeteria to swipe a few granola bars, cleans his weapons, stitches up a little tear in the lining of his favourite cloak. He sets out his acquisitions from his latest patrol in a line on his dorm room desk. Not too many this time, just a few old camera lenses the antiques store on Fifteenth might give him something for. He'll go down into the City to make those trades when he comes back.

And he showers, always a relief when he's just in from a Hive-heavy patrol run; that goop _lingers_. He ties his hair back, higher up on his head than usual.

Asaamu catches his own eye in the mirror and frowns. Smooths a hand over the back of his skull. Clicks a frustrated note with his tongue.

"It's fine," he declares, to the room, to the window, to his Ghost. And he heads back out to the hangar.

— 

It's a sunny day in New Venice, the sun angling sharp off the water. Vega guides the jumpship down in a swoop close enough to drop them off on a convenient bridge before the ship heads on back up on auto to hang around in geostationary orbit.

He pings Mithrax and gets a response back pretty quick — Mithrax is on his way. So Asaamu hops up onto the high railing to watch the water while he waits. It's scattered with sheets of algae in greens and vivid oranges, diffusing the afternoon light when it hits them. Asaamu's never seen a single corner of Venus that isn't wildly overgrown. He wonders what it was like back in the Golden Age, gardened and tidy.

Asaamu hears Mithrax coming long before he sees him: pikes aren't subtle by any species' standards. He brightens up, kicking a foot against the stone of the railing.

"Well, hey," he says. He's just the same height perched on this railing as Mithrax is standing, and that's too convenient to give up — he stays right where he is, just sits up straighter.

Mithrax pulls his helmet off on approach, letting it dangle from one hand. His eyes are bright; his crew must've found a good ether farming spot.

"Asaamu," says Mithrax, and lengthens his strides to reach him. 

He crowds up against Asaamu on the railing, leaning in. He undoes the clasps at Asaamu's neck and pulls off his helmet to reveal his face. Asaamu beams across at him and hooks an arm around his neck.

Mithrax presses his face to the corner of Asaamu's jaw, breathing in, mandible scratching against a bit of stubble.

"I missed you," he says, and every tense muscle in Asaamu's shoulders relaxes all at once at the sound of his voice. He tilts his head to give Mithrax more room, and just… hangs on.

"You too," says Asaamu. "Do you have much time here?"

"We are here until we fill up our batteries or get run off. Some time, hopefully."

"Hopefully," Asaamu agrees, and Mithrax's hands, never far from his hair, reach up. Mithrax sinks a hand into his hair and pauses.

He pets at the soft fuzz on the lower half of Asaamu's skull from his ears on down.

"This is new," he says, cautious.

"Yeah," says Asaamu, still buried in Mithrax's shoulder. "I — uh. I was on patrol with Rust and she was shaving her head again and I got bored."

"Hm. Your Awoken friend?"

Asaamu nods. Mithrax keeps petting his head, slow strokes down and up again, with the grain and then against. "Do you — like it?"

Mithrax's hand doesn't slow. "I do," he says, with the same steady conviction he says nearly everything. "Do you?"

Asaamu makes a noise against Mithrax's heavy purple mantle. "I think so. I wanted a change, and it _is_ a lot lighter now. Didn't realize how heavy that much hair got."

"Then that is the important thing settled." Mithrax leans a hip up against the stone railing, shifting more to Asaamu's side. He teases the tie out of Asaamu's hair and it tumbles out down his back in waves.

"How do you always know exactly what to say?" Asaamu moves closer as Mithrax cards his fingers through his hair. His eyes close. It's good to be with Mithrax again, good to slow down. His brain's been going a mile a minute for weeks; he's been jittering around the solar system just trying to keep himself busy.

Maybe that's where making Rust shave half his hair off came from. Huh.

"Mmm," he says, hands flexing against Mithrax's back as Mithrax's nails scratch gently over his scalp. "Your skiff anywhere nearby?"

Mithrax's hands slow down. "It is," he says.

And he scoops Asaamu up right into his arms. Asaamu definitely doesn't squeak. He is a Hunter of grace and dignity and he's never squeaked in his life.

"I have perfectly operational feet," he points out, even though he doesn't really want to get down.

Mithrax's eyes curve up in a smile. "And I have a perfectly operational pike."

"Good point," Asaamu concedes, and reclines as dramatically as he can into the bridal carry, one arm looped around Mithrax's back. If you're going to town, might as well go on a Lincoln SR-12.

Mithrax gets on the pike and settles Asaamu crossways across his lap. Asaamu draws his feet up onto the exhaust pipes running along the pike's length to keep them out of the way.

Asaamu catches a flash of blue while Mithrax juggles his grip to get to the handlebars — his hair tie on Mithrax's wrist. He's got to start keeping a real supply with him if Mithrax is going to keep stealing them from him.

He tucks himself close in to Mithrax for the ride through New Venice's streets, the pike's engine rumbling loud enough to keep him from talking. The city's beautiful in that _wistful, ruined majesty_ way the system's littered with — brick walls tumbledown and given over to lichen, statues pointing into the future with their arms snapped off at the elbows. Asaamu does get sick of it sometimes.

Mithrax's crew have set up a transmat pad up to their skiff in a convenient downtown square — they really are planning to be here for a while. Asaamu looks around; vines and moss overwhelm the buildings, and trees gone massive and contorted with age are making slow escapes from every planter. There's enough organic life around to keep their converters happy for a long time if no hostiles show up.

Mithrax's crew doesn't usually spend themselves on ether runs, busy with the politics and desperate missions an Eiksni skiff gets up to when it's allied with a faction of Reef Awoken. Still, Asaamu hopes they have a quiet few weeks filling up their batteries.

Asaamu closes his eyes against the flare of the transmat, and when he opens them again they're in the familiar dark of Mithrax's ship.

They're in a cargo bay. Mithrax guides the pike over in neutral to where five more sit in a row. Once it's all secured — and Mithrax is always so conscientious with his gear — he looks back at Asaamu, leaning against a stack of crates.

"How are your feet now?" he asks, with the perfect solemnity of someone telling a joke.

Asaamu grins. "Oh, exhausted. Couldn't possibly make the walk all the way up all those stairs by myself."

Mithrax rumbles a pleased note and scoops Asaamu back up. He braces Asaamu's shoulders with his lower arms and reaches to cradle Asaamu's skull and the short hair there again with a primary arm.

Most of the crew is outside, which means nobody sees their captain carrying a giggling human all the way up to his quarters. Probably for the best for Mithrax's dignity.

Mithrax closes the door behind them and drags the curtain shut over it. He sets Asaamu down on his hammock-bed carefully. He's always so careful, even though Asaamu's been cheerfully flinging himself into the jaws of death via molecular disintegration and hostile aliens for most of a century at this point.

"You don't have to be so delicate, you know," Asaamu says, even though he _knows_ Mithrax knows. "I'm basically unbreakable."

Mithrax sits down next to him. "Being able to survive being broken is not the same as being unbreakable," he says, quiet. He tucks a strand of hair behind Asaamu's ear. Asaamu's cheeks go hot.

"And," Mithrax adds, that same steadiness in his voice, thumb running over Asaamu's cheekbone, "I want to. You're… soft."

Asaamu's cheeks go _incandescent_. 

"Well. Um." He fumbles for Mithrax's hand. "As long as it's because you want to."

"I want to," Mithrax says. "And you? What do you want?"

Asaamu looks out at the wall, to Mithrax's shelves full of little useful things. Spare batteries and motors and pots of enamel. And he says, words tripping over themselves on their way out, "It's been a _really_ weird few weeks, and I finally made my friend tell me everything that's been going on with her since the Red War by trapping her in a room long enough for her to shave my head, and it was a lot, and I've missed you so much and really I'm up for anything except my brain is running in circles and I'd mostly like to not have to think for five solid minutes."

Mithrax pulls at their joined hands till Asaamu looks back up at him. "We can do that."

"Because you want to and not out of any kind of obligation or worry that you'll break me," Asaamu clarifies.

Mithrax pauses, and peers at Asaamu's face, close. "You have been worrying."

"A little," Asaamu admits. It seems, well, self-indulgent, lazy even, to let Mithrax treat him like he's made of glass. Even though Asaamu doesn't usually have a problem with a little laziness.

"And here I thought I was asking too much of you," Mithrax says. He runs a thumbnail up Asaamu's side and it goes _ping-ping-ping_ against the rivets on his cuirass. "You are mighty, mighty. A hundred arms, a hundred eyes. A hundred chambers in your heart."

Asaamu could tuck his chin down at that, hunch in against the dizzying tenderness in Mithrax's voice, or—. Or he could tug at their joined hands and pull Mithrax in for a kiss.

He goes for option two. Mithrax's hands find his thigh, his ass, his back, his hair. Mithrax presses gently, insistently against the small of his back, till he arches even further upwards. Mithrax's teeth, needle-sharp, bite delicately at Asaamu's lip.

Asaamu tries to deepen the kiss, go harder, but Mithrax doesn't let him. The hand in his hair keeps stroking the short hair of his undercut, up and down, till Asaamu relaxes into it. He lets Mithrax take the lead.

Mithrax takes his time, urging Asaamu further up, onto his knees on the bed. Then, not breaking the kiss, he starts removing Asaamu's armour. It's his light set, for when he's not expecting trouble but he's also not taking chances.

Mithrax's primary hands stay right where they are, on Asaamu's scalp and his waist, and he uses his secondaries to start undoing the snaps on Asaamu's gauntlets. Mithrax still has his curved knives strapped to his gloves, one the standard Dusk gear and one made from Asaamu's old throwing knife, sharp as ever. He keeps them well away from Asaamu, working carefully. He draws Asaamuu's gauntlets off a finger at a time. When the cool air hits Asaamu's palm he shivers. 

Mithrax pulls back from the kiss and Asaamu grumbles in protest, but then Mithrax brings Asaamu's hand up. He kisses it, first the fingers, then turning it over to lay another kiss on the palm.

"The things you do with these hands," says Mithrax, soft. Asaamu bites his lip. Mithrax's hand on his head wraps around his hair, winding it into a rope that falls apart again as it slithers down his back. 

Mithrax undoes the buckles on Asaamu's cuirass, setting it aside. He runs a hand up Asaamu's chest, now only covered by his jumpsuit and undershirt. The zipper on Asaamu's jumpsuit is hidden under a tab at his collar — Mithrax cups his jaw to nudge it out of the way. Asaamu leans into the touch, the cool texture of Mithrax's fingers. Mithrax draws his jumpsuit off his arms, his undershirt over his head. He cards through Asaamu's hair again right after that, neatening its fall. And he presses a hand against Asaamu's bared chest.

"The strength in your heart," he murmurs. He nudges Asaamu further up on his knees and dips his head down to kiss his collarbone, his chest. His hand brushes over the hair on Asaamu's chest, the trail going down his belly. Asaamu hangs on to Mithrax's shoulders, breathing hard.

Somehow Mithrax gets Asaamu out of his boots and the bottom half of his jumpsuit, and guides him sideways into Mithrax's lap. By this point Asaamu isn't thinking very much at all.

Mithrax, still fully dressed, runs a hand along the underside of Asaamu's thigh, down his calf to his heel. He bends Asaamu's leg up and leans in to press a kiss to the top of Asaamu's foot. 

"All the things you do, with no armour but what you strap on," he says. "You and your will."

"Just doing my job," says Asaamu, faint. His eyes are wide, staring up at Mithrax. He can't look away.

Mithrax kisses his ankle, his knee, straightens out his leg again. 

"No," he says, and moves his hand over the long muscles in Asaamu's thigh. "You do more than that. With your heart that holds everyone you meet in it, and your hands that open when your companions' would close. Your back that keeps you tall."

He lifts Asaamu up again, this time to lay him down on the bed. Asaamu's hands flex against the sheets. 

Mithrax starts pulling off his own clothing, starting with his heavy mantle and cape. Then his thigh armour, then he sits down again on the bed by Asaamu. His hands, all the ones not occupied with taking off his armour, start moving again along every part of Asaamu they could reach. It should tickle when he runs a hand up Asaamu's calf against the way the hair lies on it, but that isn't why Asaamu shivers.

It's good to see Mithrax, to see all of him like this emerging from his layers. Asaamu's eyes fix on Mithrax unwrapping the straps of cloth from his gauntlets, his wrists revealed, then his palms as the gauntlets and their knives come off. His joints are deceptively delicate things, between the steel-hard armour of his plating.

Mithrax doesn't fully strip, just gets rid of his armour — he leaves the winding straps of purple cloth on his arms and thighs. He leans in, looming over Asaamu, a wall of Eliksni. Asaamu's favourite wall.

"Look at you," Mithrax says. His eyes are soft. "I could drink of you forever and never finish. Like the sea."

One hand reaches for Asaamu's side. Asaamu's skin prickles to feel Mithrax's bare palm against it, no longer muffled with cloth. Mithrax's thumb brushes over an old scar on his belly: one from Asaamu's first life pre-Light. He doesn't know what made it, but it's jagged, a pale ridge against the brown of his skin. Mithrax folds himself down to kiss it.

Asaamu can't help himself — he clutches at Mithrax's neck and shoulders. Mithrax's head tilts up and he smiles, but then he draws back slowly so Asaamu's hands fall back down to the bed.

Mithrax's secondary hands reach for Asaamu's, arranging them palm-down. He presses gently at them, pushing them into the sheets.

"Will you stay there? Just like that?"

"Yeah," says Asaamu, and it comes out so quiet he has to lick his lips and say it again. "Yes."

"Good," says Mithrax. "Like that."

Mithrax doesn't touch him with more than a hand or two at a time, even though Asaamu wants all of him. It might almost be innocent exploration but for how his hands keep returning to Asaamu's neck, his nipples, the joint of his hip, every point that makes him shiver.

Mithrax keeps up that praise, too, till Asaamu's head and every inch of his skin buzzes with it.

"You take it so well, everything I give you," he murmurs, and leans in to mouth at Asaamu's neck. Asaamu is panting, jaw hanging open, and he just wants to turn his head to slide his mouth against Mithrax's. To pull him into a kiss. But he doesn't, because — well. Mithrax said _stay_.

Mithrax must see something in his eyes, because he does shift over to give Asaamu a kiss. It's teasing, his blunt triangular tongue barely brushing against Asaamu's.

Then Mithrax pulls away to move down again. He takes Asaamu's nipple between two fingers and pinches, the first faint sting he's given Asaamu all day — and Asaamu, shocked, arches high into it. He groans.

"Yes, look at you," Mithrax says. "How much you feel — a hundred million nerves, all here, all so close." He puts his mouth on the nipple, the warmth of his tongue soothing it, before he closes his teeth around it. His sharp teeth placed so carefully they barely dent the skin. Asaamu's dick lying heavy on his belly reminds him of its presence. He clutches at the bed.

Mithrax stays there a long time, alternating between scrapes and soft touches. One set of hands rests on his waist, not restraining him, just reminding him not to move too much. Asaamu trembles like a plucked bowstring under the weight of Mithrax's attention. It's heady, knowing every scrap of Mithrax's focus is on him, four bright eyes cataloguing every shift of his body.

"So much you can do. Unstoppable with or without your Light. And here you are, because I only asked." Mithrax's voice lowers, spiraling down into a rumble. "On your back for me and still more dangerous than any Eliksni I've known."

Asaamu's hips push up into nothing. "Nowhere I'd rather be," he mumbles, not paying near as much attention to whatever's coming out of his mouth as he is to Mithrax. Mithrax, who clears eight feet the rare times he stands up straight, who's got the conviction to strike out on his own for the good of his people. Mithrax, who wants to see Asaamu when he comes off duty just as much as Asaamu wants to see him.

For all he's maskless right now, Mithrax's eyes brighten like he's just taken a breath of ether. He looks right at Asaamu, into his eyes with that clear gaze of his, and then dips his head to lay a kiss on Asaamu's rib cage. Right above his heart.

It's torture keeping himself still. Asaamu wants to pull him up, show Mithrax how much he means it.

But he stays there. Because Mithrax asked it of him. And because he's got a feeling for what's coming next.

What comes next is waves of sensation, Mithrax abusing that extra set of limbs he's got to keep Asaamu shivering under him. Four hands is enough Asaamu loses track of where they all are, what with his head thrown back so he can get a breath. Mithrax keeps murmuring praise all the while. Asaamu's skin isn't big enough for him, he's going to shake right out of it, fall apart right here on Mithrax's bed

Mithrax sets his teeth to Asaamu's neck.

Asaamu wheezes, one long indrawn breath. He scrabbles for a handful of sheet. Mithrax's teeth indent the fine skin of his neck. Asaamu's so hard it _hurts_ , dick sliding across the firm plates of Mithrax's belly.

A hand comes up to cup his jaw. One heavy thumb pets it, his cheek, the stubble he missed by his ear. Asaamu holds still, tense, trembling.

Mithrax pushes himself further up on the bed, arching higher so Asaamu's dick isn't touching him anymore. Asaamu whines through his teeth. Mithrax makes it up to him by unlatching his jaws from Asaamu's neck and tilting his head carefully with that strong, wide hand of his so Mithrax can put his teeth to Asaamu's ear instead. Bright pain prickles up it, a high note of contrast against the heavy weight of Mithrax on his jaw, his neck, his sides.

Mithrax tilts Asaamu's head back again for a kiss, a deep one. Asaamu doesn't try to take the lead. He lets Mithrax guide them both, accepting it. Mithrax's eyes are bright, happy, smug. Asaamu can't help but smile into the kiss till Mithrax pulls away again.

Mithrax rears all the way back, leaving Asaamu's front cold. Asaamu bites the side of his lip.

Mithrax scoots down the bed to lift one of Asaamu's legs. He presses kisses up its length, working from ankle to the underside of his thigh. He mixes in a few bites at uneven intervals, just enough to keep Asaamu on edge, never knowing what's next.

Then Mithrax gets a hand under his other thigh and lifts his entire lower body up to set his jaws right on Asaamu's ass.

Asaamu can't help but jerk at that, his hands coming half off the bed before he forces them back down.

Mithrax pauses and looks up at him, flushed and struggling to keep control of himself.

"Would you like me to tie you up?" he asks, solicitous.

Asaamu flushes even harder at that, his mind offering up some choice images. Mithrax already has a hand on his arm wrappings, ready to unwind them to press into service. 

"Next time," Asaamu wheezes. " _Definitely_ let's do that next time."

Mithrax's hand falls away from his arm. He presses a soft kiss to Asaamu's thigh. "I will look forward to it."

When his voice drops low enough, Mithrax's chest rumbles under his words like he's purring. It's one of Asaamu's favourite things about him, up with all the other things that aren't about his body at all.

"This time, though." Asaamu has to concentrate on Mithrax's voice to make out what he's saying. "Will you control yourself?"

"Oh," Asaamu says, thick over the rush in his head, "if you're going to make it a _challenge_ —"

Mithrax laughs, short happy barks. It's a good sound. Asaamu grins and settles his shoulders more firmly into the sheets. The short hair at the back of his hair pushes against the bed in a different way from the rest of it, still a new feeling.

"Do your worst."

"Oh, with your permission," Mithrax says, deep voice going light. It's as close as he comes to an Earth-style joke — Eliksni humour leans towards explicit threats, and the Reef humour he's picked up from his allies is only marginally less strange.

"You've got it," Asaamu says, or starts to, half of the sentence swallowed up by the noise he makes when Mithrax puts his mouth right to his balls. Mithrax has been getting bitier all night. Asaamu closes his eyes, breathes out slow through his nse, and untenses all his muscles before he gets a cramp.

"Yes?" Mithrax asks, voice soft, his breath drier than a human's would be against Asaamu's skin. Asaamu looks up to see him hunched at the end of the bed, a massive figure, eyes the brightest thing in the room.

"Of _course_."

Mithrax's mandibles flare out in a quick grin, and then he dives in to — well — do his worst.

He's got a hand supporting Asaamu's lower back, one under each leg, and the last comes up out of hiding to wrap gently around Asaamu's cock. 

Asaamu struggles to not come right there on the spot, finally touched the way he wanted. All his muscles go tense with the effort of not moving — Mithrax looks at him like he wants to find his limits, take Asaamu as far as he'll go.

Asaamu bites at his lip.

Mithrax works at him delicately, always so aware of their comparative sizes. His hands move lightly over Asaamu, offsetting their gentleness with using his teeth — he bites at Asaamu's inner thigh, right on the vein, not hard enough to draw blood but hard enough to sting. It's perfect.

Asaamu doesn't know how he does it, how he keeps from moving — Mithrax doesn't give him an inch, doesn't slow down for a series of held breaths that stretch out to minutes. After a time, Asaamu's muscles start to tremble with the tension of keeping himself still, of keeping himself from coming, all for the sake of prolonging this. Prolonging Mithrax's touches.

Mithraxt looks down at Asaamu, his eyes intent, and frees one hand to brush at Asaamu's lip where he's bitten it red.

"Look at you," he says. "I — would that I had more eyes to look at you with."

That eternal steadiness is gone from his voice — the assurance is still there, but now it's accompanied by hunger and a thread of something almost too tender to bear. Asaamu has to close his eyes against it for a moment. When he opens them and looks up again Mithrax looks as ragged as he feels. It's some impossible miracle, some chance gift of the universe that they're here.

Asaamu lets himself move enough to tip his head into Mithrax's hand. Mithrax rumbles, and his grip tightens on Asaamu's dick.

After all the buildup, just that is enough — he comes, back arching, his heels digging into the mattress.

All the tension washes right out of Asaamu's body. It leaves him dizzy and limp in its wake, cradled between the pillars of Mithrax's ams.

Mithrax kneels looming above him, one hand gripping his cock, flushed dark and straining.

"May I," Mithrax begins, and Asaamu reaches up for him.

"Do it," he says, lightheaded. Mithrax's mandibles flare out, and his grip changes on his cock. Asaamu sets a hand atop his. Mithrax's hand flexes under him, and together they stroke him four, five times, and Mithrax comes in a bright hot streak across Asaamu's belly.

Asaamu grins sharp and satisfied. Mithrax hangs above him, supporting himself on his trembling secondaries. _I did that_ , he thinks, and he hooks an arm around Mithrax's neck and draws him down to lie next to him. The bed sinks under Mithrax's weight and Asaamu lets himself slide down to meet him, forehead to Mithrax's broad chest.

He picks up one of Mithrax's hands, cool against his. Mithrax brushes a thumb over Asaamu's temple and hairline, again and again, till their breathing settles and the prickles of sweat dry against Asaamu's overheated skin.

All the worry's been wrung out of Asaamu like water from a sponge; he molds himself against Mithrax.

"Better?"

Asaamu nods, pushing his head into Mithrax's sternum, sleepy. "Yeah. Thank you."

Mithrax pulls him away. He tips Asaamu's head up, and Asaamu makes a noise of protest.

"And you," he says, " _o ze_."

 _Little gift_. If either of them were any more awake Asaamu would crack a size joke. As it is, he just grumbles and presses himself closer in. 

His eyes are already slipping shut again. He blinks heavily to see Mithrax's own eyes gone to slits, thin lines of illuminated blue.

They drift off together like that, curled into each other, Mithrax cupping Asaamu's skull delicately in one broad hand, the engine of the skiff around them humming warm and low at the very edge of hearing.

**Author's Note:**

>  
> 
> _  
> [powerful with a little bit of tender / an emotional sexual bender](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tGRzz0oqgUE)  
>  _  
> 


End file.
